Rock Solid
by These Trick Questions
Summary: There are several things Steve can count on in his life: the gang always being there, his dad being...well, his dad Soda helping him through the tough times. When things start to unwind, will anything be solid in Steve's life anymore?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so here's my Steve story. I don't know how good it is--I've never written anything through Steve's point of view, but I wanted to try and this is what I got. Urgh, hope you like. Review please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.**

His eyes burned angrily into mine. I refused to drop my gaze. Those three little words were coming again. I knew it. I braced myself, repeating over and over again that I didn't care.

"I hate you!" he hollered. _Tell me something I don't know, _I thought bitterly, staring at him and trying my best to look as if he didn't mean anything to me. He didn't stop there, though. I hadn't really expected him to. "You ain't nothing but a piece of shit. You ain't gonna amount to nothing! I don't never wanna see you again! Get out! Just get the hell out!"

"Fine," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, as if he didn't bother me one bit. I turned, and sauntered out the door, pushing the lump in my throat down. It was hard to pretend it didn't hurt, going through each day as if I didn't care, showing the world that tough cover--up. And it was getting harder. I mean, it's one thing for some guy at school to say he hates you and that you're nothing. It's something completely different when it's your father.

I had learned a long time ago that my dad didn't like me. I don't know why and I don't understand it, but that's just the way it is. It's not gonna change. I also stopped feeling sorry for myself a long time ago. I had figured out that no one really cares, that you're on your own in this world. All you can do is go about your own way and if the world hates you, screw them. Just screw them.

The weather outside was that of a typical winter day in Tulsa. The sun was shining brightly, but it was chilly. The wind whipped through my hair, designed to my perfection with gel in curls that can only be described as "complicated." I never took myself to be much of a looker--that's my best friend, Sodapop Curtis. I have other things going for me though. Brains, mechanical abilities, friends, ect.

Friends. God, I don't know what I'd do without the gang, especially Soda. First of all, I'd probably be sleeping on a park bench or something instead of on the Curtis' couch. Sometimes I think it's Soda that keeps me sane. I mean, his life isn't much better than mine. His parents, two amazing people, were killed in a car crash a few months back. Now, Darry, his older brother takes care of him and Ponyboy, his kid brother. Emphasis on the "kid" part. Ponyboy's only fourteen, compared to my seventeen and Soda's sixteen--almost seventeen--years, and I swear he tags along _all _the time, unless Soda and I have Evie or Sandy, Soda's girl, with us. He's probably the spaciest person and the world. He just doesn't think and I swear it could drive a guy to insanity.

It's funny, though. It's like Ponyboy and I are in a battle over Sodapop. I mean, why else would he tag along all the time? He wants to be with his brother, and I want to be with my best friend. One of the few times Soda and I are ever alone are at work--and how alone can ya get at a gas station? It's not like I ask for a lot, but I do sometimes wish the limited time I have with Soda wasn't ruined by his kid brother. Jeez, now I sound like I'm in love with Soda or somethin'. Well, I'm not. It's just...sometimes your best friend is like a brother. And Soda's one of the few good things in my life.

Then there's the rest of the gang, Two-Bit, Dally, and Johnny. Two-Bit the jokester, Dally the cold, hard hood, and Johnny the beat-up pet of our gang. I guess I shouldn't complain about my life. At least I don't get beat up by my old man, like Johnny. Not to mention, Johnny's really jumpy now, thanks to some Socs, the West Side rich kids. They jumped him several months ago and scared the poor kid half to death. He just hasn't been the same since.

Anyway, I was headed to the DX, the gas station where I work part-time. Soda works full time there, since he dropped out of school, but he was off this morning, so I was on my own. I don't normally work te counter or the pumps. Usually, I'm the mechanic. Thankfully, it wasn't too busy this day. I was on duty all day that day, except for a small lunch break. Soda was supposed to come in the afternoon, so I was surprised when I walked in after a quick bite to eat and he wasn't there.

My boss, Mr. Harrison, poked his head out of his office. "Damn," he said, "I was hoping you were Curtis."

"He ain't here?" I asked, surprised. That wasn't like Soda. Sure, he was late occasionally, but usually only five, ten on bad days. Fifteen to twenty minutes was not like him.

Mr. H shook his head. "If he ain't with you, he ain't here yet. Shit. Ah well, good thing it's slow today."

I nodded in agreement, my mind drifting to Soda. Where was he? When he hadn't show up by two, I started to worry. By the time we were closing, he still hadn't shown, and my mind was whirling. Where the hell was he? I started towards the Curtis house. My feet were moving quickly because I was a lone Greaser. I wasn't about to get jumped by some Socs. I guess I was also a bit jumpy 'cause Pony just got jumped yesterday.

I flung open the door to the Curtis' house. "Hey!" I shouted, kicking off my shoes in the doorway. "Soda, you here?"

I stopped dead in the front room. Soda was sitting on the couch, gazing blankly at the TV, which was off, and fiddling with his hands. "Soda, you okay?"

He looked up at me, as if in a daze. "Ponyboy's gone," he said softly. "He's gone."

**A/N: Well, there it is. Hope it didn't suck too bad. / Anyway, sorry it's so short, but I was planning on ending it right there. Thought it'd make it all nice and dramatic...don't know if I did it right though. Ah, anyway, REVIEW!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alrighty, so here's chapter 2. Let me tell ya, your guys' reviews motivated me to write this. I really was doubting the last chapter, of course, I doubt myself a lot when I write. I was all upset with my friend when she edited my research paper for English and all she fixed were grammatical errors. Anyway, sorry this is so short. I doubt this one too, but I'm trying to be less critical of my work...review, please!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.**

"What?" I asked Soda, sitting on the couch next to him. His eyes were red from crying, and he looked like he was about to start again. "What happened? Where'd he go?"

Soda shrugged, looking miserable. "Fight," he mumbled, "with Socs and Johnny and Pony. Johnny killed a Soc."

I blinked, surprised. My first thought was that this was a joke. I had never thought Johnny could kill someone. But...if it was a joke, why had Soda skipped work? That was taking things a little too far. And besides, Soda needed his job.

I heard Soda give a muffled sob at my side. He was bent over, his head in his hands, bawling is heart out. Alarmed, I wrapped an arm around his trembling shoulders, just as he had done for me several times in the past. I felt him lean into me into me. Damn, this was awkward. I had no idea what to say. Hell, I wasn't exactly sure what had happened.

"Hey c'mon," I said. I had to try--for Soda's sake. Of course, I'm not Soda. I'm not good at crap like this. "I'm sure they're fine."

I half expected him to snap something at me. That's what I would've done. Instead, he sniffled and wiped his eyes. "Yeah," he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. "Yeah, I just wish they were here." Then again, Soda isn't me.

"Where's Darry?" I asked, as Soda's tears subsided.

"His bedroom," was the reply. "He really ain't takin' this well." I could hear the worry in his voice as he stared down the hall in the direction of Darry's bedroom.

"He'll be fine," I assured Soda. After all, we were talking about the same guy who hadn't shed a tear at his parents' deaths. The concerned look didn't leave Soda's face, though.

The phone rang suddenly, causing Soda to jump. He leaped up, though, and answered it, as I followed him into the kitchen.

"'Lo?" He sounded hopeful, as if the person on the other line might know where his brother was.

"Oh, hey!" he exclaimed. I could see his brown eyes brighten a little. _It must be Sandy, _I thought, bending over to dig through the icebox.

"Yeah, okay. 'Bye." His voice wasn't as cheery as it had been earlier. He hung up and wandered over to me.

"What's up with Sandy?" I asked without looking up.

"Dunno," he replied. "She sounded pretty serious. Upset, too."

"You two still doublin' with me and Evie tonight?" I stood, having found my prize of half a chocolate cake. I tore off a chunk and bit into it.

Soda nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," I said firmly. "It'll be good to get out of the house. Keep your mind off things, ya know?"

He nodded, but I guess it might've been smarter to not say anything. Ah well, I'd already said it.

We sat on the couch for awhile, watching pointless TV. Neither of said anything, though Soda was fidgeting. Maybe an hour later, the front door swung open and in burst none other then Dallas Winston.

Soda was on his feet in a matter of milliseconds. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Where's Ponyboy?"

Dally simply shrugged. "I'm supposed to know?" he replied coolly.

"No, but you do," Soda retorted. "Where is he?"

"Told ya, I dunno," Dally repeated, plopping onto the couch. He looked tired, I noticed, and in no mood to argue.

"Bullshit!" Soda started, but I stood and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Take it easy, buddy," I muttered. Because, you know, all we needed right now was a fight.

I pondered for a minute how much our positions had switched--mine and Soda's I mean. Usually, he was the one holding me back when I was in danger of getting in over my head.

I could feel Soda's muscles relax under my hand.

Darry decided to make an entrance just then, and let me tell ya, he looked like he'd been through hell five times over. I think--when I saw Dary's face--that's when it really hit me. Johnny had killed a Soc, and he and Pony were on the run.

Holy shit.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ah, sorry it's taken me forever to post this! I had it written but my mom was using the laptop. So then I had to type it. And then wait to post it. Hope you guys like it. : ) **

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.**

**Dedication: Yes, I'm actually doing a dedication. Actually, two. **

**This is dedicated to all the VA Tech students, their families, and all the victims.**

**Also, it's dedicated to the three of the Owens family who died last Thursday (I believe) in a fire, and to the boy who was the only survivor (I almost put the Boy who Lived, but I didn't want it to sound too Harry Potter-ish). I know most of you probably have no idea who I'm talking about (I didn't even know them personally), but still. **

Later that day, as the sun was setting, Soda and I made our way to Sandy's house. Since Evie and Sandy were best friends (Evie actually set Sandy up with Soda) they usually got ready at one or the other's house. Today, it happened to be Sandy's.

For the first time in my memory, our walk over was pretty quiet. I tried to strike up several conversations, but gave up 'cause it wasn't workin'. Soda really wasn't himself today. No duh. What else could I expect? He had no idea where his kid brother was. He was scared and worried. If I was bein' honest with myself, I was feelin' like that, too. I missed Johnny, and as much as I hated to admit it, Ponyboy, too. I couldn't quite explain it to myself.

I think we all--myself included--take it for granted that Soda's always gonna be happy. We tend to forget that he's human, that he can be upset and scared. How quickly his behaviour from his parents' death is forgotten, how miserable he was. What a selective memory we have.

So anyway, we were at Sandy's house by now. I rapped on the door and less then a minute later, Evie came bounding into my arms, a smile planted on her bright red lips, the lipstick applied with precision. Our lips met, our form of greeting.

Sandy, on the other hand, was taking her time closing the door and meeting Soda. Even when she approached him, she did no more then coolly peck his cheek. Soda stared at her, hurt and confused, a look she pointedly ignored. The atmosphere was suddenly tense.

"So, um, where are we going?" Evie asked, obviously uncomfortable.

"Dinner at Jays," I answered, as we headed away from Sandy's house. I had my arm around Evie's small waist.

Once again, we walked in silence--a tense, awkward silence. I tried to ignore it by studying Evie. I was distracted because Evie really is a good-lookin' chick.

Her light brown curls bounced around her face. Her hazel eyes stood out against the black mascara and eyeliner and the green eyeshadow. Foundation, cover-up, and a pink blush thickly coated her face. Anger flared in me. Not again.

She caught me looking at her and gave me a sheepish smile. "It was my fault," she murmured soothingly, leaning into me slightly. "I shouldn't have made him mad.

Yeah, Evie was hiding a bruise under all that make-up. No, it wasn't her old man who gave it to her (though he wasn't above that occasionally). It was her older, deadbeat of a brother.

"Don't be mad at him," she pleaded, gazing at me with that look in her hazel eyes, that look that makes me want her more than anything. "Please, he didn't mean it." Funny thing was, Evie still loved her big brother, still made excuses for him.

"Steve?" Evie looked at, begging. She, for some reason, wanted me and her brother to get along. Fat chance when he was hurtin' her like this.

"Just drop it," I sighed, pulling her closer to me and pressing my lips against the top of her head. She sighed, content, and the subject was dropped.

The tension at our booth wasn't almost unbearable, and it was about to come to a bursting point. I could feel it.

Before we even got our drinks, Sandy stood. "We need to talk," she announced. She kept her head bent and refused to meet Soda's anxious, brown eyes. He nodded and stood as well, wrapping his arm around her waist. She looked like she was about to push him away, but she didn't. I was slightly worried as they walked off; this didn't bode well.

I ignored it though, and wrapped my arms around Evie, kissing her full on the lips. Se threw her arms around my neck enthusiastically. Before we could get much further, though, Evie pulled away, distracted by a sob from the other side of the restaurant. How she heard it, I had no idea.

It was Sandy, tears and mascara streaming down her face, stumbling towards the exit. Evie swore, grabbed their stuff, and started to leave. "Sorry, Steve," she said, giving me an apolegetic look. "I'll make this up to you, promise!" With that, she hurried after her friend, leaving me to my imagination, thinking of how she was going to make this up to me. I could feel the grin spreading across my face. A split second later, I remembered Soda and my grin faded. What kind of person was I--forgetting my best friend like that? Soda would never have done that to me.

Feeling guilty and seeing no sign of Soda, I went to look for him. An I found him.

He was slumped against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, with his arm wrapped around them. His cheek was resting on his knees, and he was staring blankly at the wall across from him.

"Soda?" I asked softly, sitting down next to him. "Sodapop, man, you okay?"

He didn't even try to fake it. He simply shook his head. He looked like he was about to bawl. Aw, God, not again

"Don't cry," I ordered, seeing the tears form in his eyes. "Whatever you do, don't cry."

He blinked the tears back and looked at me quizzically.

I shrugged and tried to explain. "It's just...it makes me feel helpless. I hate seein' you upset, man, but I've got no idea what to do when you cry. And then I'm all guilty 'cause you're always there for me when I needja, and I can't be.

Well, there's a nice place to spill your guts--in the hallway at a popular restaurant where the phone and bathroom were located. One guy stopped and stared at me, but I narrowed my eyes and told him to fuck off, which made Soda smirk a little. Not my intent, but it was a plus.

I stood and offered my hand to help him up. "Now," I said, slipping my arm around his shoulders and guiding him out of Jay's (the waiter with our drinks was staring at the empty table, bewildered), "Tell me what happened.

**A/N: Well, there it was. Hope you guys liked. Please review!!**


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